The Princess, the Scribe, and the Burglar
by Ciggie Stardust
Summary: Set after the Battle of Five Armies, alt. timeline with Thorin and the Durin brothers still alive. King Dain summons his daughter Mimzy to Erebor to seek out a husband. But her would-be suitors are in for a big surprise, as it seems that Dain hasn't *quite* been honest in his description of Mimzy... BilboxOC, OrixOC
1. Chapter 1: The Feast

The Princess, the Scribe, and the Burglar

_Set after the Battle of Five Armies. Alternate Timeline where Thorin, Kili and Fili are still alive, and details are changed about the ill-fated trip to Moria, because really, the reality is just too depressing. Movie-verse. I may have screwed up Dwarf years, but meh. It suits the purposes of my story._

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, this setting, this world. That all belongs to the talented Mr Tolkien._

Chapter One: The Feast

"How far away are we again?"

"Only about twenty miles, quit fidgeting in the saddle. And keep a watch of your pony, I swear he tries to nip Ramble."

"Rusty can't help it. He was born a rebel."

"If I had a word to describe your pony I'd use a much ruder word than – OW. Did you just throw a cashew at me?!"

"Zora, don't throw foods at your sister," sighed the princesses' handmaiden, Lirin. The princesses in question, Zora and Mimzy, were making their way from the Iron Hills to Erebor. The eldest, Mimzy, was going to meet the dwarf that her father was insisting she marry.

Not ask politely. Not date. No. _Insist she marry_.

Needless to say, Mimzy was not in the mood to be pelted with nuts by her little sister. And now Zora had made up one of her many nonsensical songs.

"Rusty… Rusty the RE-BEL… He's gonna save the day… Get you out of TRE-BBLE…"

Mimzy considered sniping about Zora's rhyming skills, then swapped a look with Lirin. Lirin shrugged. The kid was only 40, the equivalent of 14 in Dwarf years. Mimzy and Lirin were both 124 (24), and born only a day apart. But in the looks department, they were as different as chalk and cheese.

Mimzy was thin, with a petite build and soft hands that worked predominantly with thread and dyes and fabrics. Her hair was silvery-blonde, and braided into an elegant chignon. Her features were delicate, and her eyes as large and dark as a doe's. Her cheekbones were soft and smooth.

As a result, she was completely unappealing to male Dwarves. In fact, to them she was rather ugly.

Lirin, in contrast, was a total babe. Her arms were as strong as steel, she had wide son-bearing hips, a hefty bosom, a regal visage, and gorgeous sideburns framed her flowing mane of chestnut hair. The three female Dwarves were riding at the front of their small party, and Lirin would often turn around and wink at a male guard that she was sweet on. She was sweet on a new male every week, it seemed.

Mimzy could see the Lonely Mountain loom closer and closer, and she instinctively reached up to stroke her cheeks. Nothing. Not one hair. She side-eyed Zora, who was already growing a fine blonde stubble. It wasn't fair.

"What's the matter? Is it the beard thing again?"

"It's _always_ the beard thing. He's never going to agree to this, Lir. He's going to do what my suitors _always _do. Bow, smile awkwardly, treat me to dinner, make small conversation, and then make up some excuse to Papa as to why he doesn't want to date me again."

"Mim. That only happened once."

Mimzy raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it only happened once this _year_."

"Relax." Zora rode up to Mimzy's left. "Even if he thinks you're gross, his kingdom is still shouting us dinner."

"ZOR!" Lirin leaned across Mimzy and glared.

"Okay, okay. You look… " Zora struggled for a word as she looked at her tiny and forlorn older sister. "You just look a bit different, that's all. Get him to cook you some steak. Papa says that whenever he eats steak it puts some hair on his chest."

"Yeah, but Papa also says that you can heal a wart by bathing in a barrel of milk. He's a great warlord and a just king – when he's not marrying me off, I should add – but he's a lousy healer, Zora."

"Remember when he almost died from infection because he smeared chicken poo on a scratch?"

The girls allowed themselves a guilty laugh at the King's idiocy in matters of medicine. Zora and Mimzy were in fact relieved to be seeing their father again – it had been a month since he and the Iron Hills army had set forth for Erebor, and they'd lit candles to Aule every day since he'd left, praying for his health.

But, everything had turned out well. The Goblin Army had been defeated, the Dwarves were once again on friendly terms with the Men of Dale and the Elves of Mirkwood, and Thorin Oakenshield, the King under the Mountain, had graciously asked Dain to be his guest for a few weeks. Dain, never missing an opportunity to advance his mission to get Mimzy married off and producing heirs, had offered Fili, the eldest of Thorin's kin, a chance to meet his 'beautiful' daughter, to see if she was wife material.

Mimzy, of course, had not been consulted about any of this. An abashed old crow had cawed the news to her a week ago, and she had dutifully packed up the ponies. Not before she had hurled a barrel of the king's favourite wine off the castle wall in rage, of course.

Now she was regretting the decision. Not because of her father's feelings – she was at the end of her tether with Dain's meddling – but because perhaps if the Prince under the Mountain had a few glasses, he would perhaps think her attractive.

She sighed. Perhaps.

[break]

Mimzy may have smashed one barrel, but old Dain was going one better. Thorin became decidedly nervous when his northern neighbour shouted out for a THIRD barrel of wine, having drunk himself through two. The feast hadn't even started yet.

"This Elf wine Thorin, THIS ELF WINE! I say! It's pretty… it's pretty pretty, isn't it? Red as a ruby!"

Dain proceeded to laugh heartily at his non-joke. Thorin replied with a terse smile.

"You said that your daughters would be here before sunset..."

"Oh, Mim and Zor might be dilly-dallying, but they'll be here, Thorin, they'll be here. Where's that boy of yours? Folli?"

"Fili."

"FILI! Right, right, right. Ah! There he is! Gettin' ready for your big date, hey lad?"

Fili bowed respectfully as his younger brother Kili smirked behind him. Kili was having buckets of fun at his brother's expense. Fili, meanwhile, was steamed at the fact that he had to swap his hardy leather jerkin for his best dinner clothes of silk and velveteen.

"This daughter of Ironfoot had better be as gorgeous as he says," he grumbled to his sibling as they took their places at Thorin's right side. They were in the Hall of Thror, deep in the heart of the Mountain. Fili watched on enviously as Kili poured himself a generous goblet of wine. _He _didn't have to be on his best behaviour that night.

"Oh, relax. According to King Dain she can tie up ropes with the best of them, and is a remarkable rider." Kili winked, and Fili's kick under the table only heightened his glee.

"You are awful and dirty and unworthy of love."

"Tell that to half the women of Dale."

"Oh Kili, come on. _Half_?"

"Almost! It's simple. All I have to do is slip off my shirt and tunic, get all sweaty at the forges, and then the next thing you know – "

"I happen to know that very soon we will be joined by the Elvenking, King Bard, Gandalf the Grey, our Company, and most importantly, some royal young ladies, and so I think you should save such stories for another time," Thorin whispered to Kili, making him blush from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. Fili snorted into his cup of blackberry juice. Justice had been served.

[break]

Mimzy felt her stomach flutter as a particularly loud exclamation came from the Hall. The princesses had arrived at Erebor, and had been quickly ushered by Balin, the King's Advisor, into the guest rooms that had been prepared for them.

"I can't button up the back of your dress if you keep jumping," Lirin muttered.

"Sorry. But do you think –?"

"I think that was your father laughing at something inappropriate. I don't think they're talking about you."

"They will be." Mimzy looked at her reflection, miserably taking in her diminutive stature and slender waist. Lirin lightly swatted her with a fan.

"They will be in awe of you. Now, hold still as I put on your crown."

Very gently, Lirin lowered the crown over Mimzy's chignon, and adjusted it so that opal was in the middle of her forehead. Before she could stop it, Mimzy felt her eyes water. It always happened when she wore her late mother's crown.

Lirin handed her a handkerchief so that she wouldn't smudge her make up, and busied herself by adjusting her own clothes. She didn't envy Mimzy, who was required to wear a flowing white lace gown for the occasion. Lirin was allowed to stay in her tunic and breeches. Even Zora, as the second heir, was allowed to attend the feast in a comfortable combination of a dress shirt and trousers.

"Zor! Time to go!"

Zora rolled her eyes, and shut the book that she had been reading. She pushed herself off the armchair, and stood behind Mimzy with Lirin. Mimzy had now broken out into a nervous sweat, and was afraid to open her mouth in case she vomited.

"Okay Mim?"

"Mm."

"Sure, sis?"

"MM."

"Maybe we could go tell Balin we need a few more minutes – "

"Oh for goodness' sake let's just get this over and done with!"

Before Lirin and Zora could make her even more jittery, Mimzy lifted up the front of her gown, walked out the door, down the passage way, and knocked sharply three times on the door of the Hall. Abruptly, the music stopped, and the herald's horns signalled her arrival.

"Presenting her Majesty, Princess Mimzy, of the Iron Hills! May her beard be as soft as melted silver, her eyes as bright as mithril, and her reign as long as Durin the First's!"

Mimzy sucked in a deep breath as the door swung open, revealing her to the guests at the feast. The beard. Why did the royal greeting always, ALWAYS have to start with the bit about the beard?

She began slowly approaching the table upon the dais, where the royal dwarves were, herself and Zora to be seated on her father's side. She kept his eyes on his face, too afraid and embarrassed to look at anyone else.

As the herald introduced Zora and Lirin, she could hear the mutters and whispers that rolled through the crowd. Her bare cheeks burned, and to make it even worse, she almost tripped ten feet away from the throne.

Making her way to her seat next to her father, she felt Zora carefully making sure that she didn't sit on her hem. Zora could be a brat sometimes, but she felt acutely for Mimzy in moments like this.

"You look radiant, my darling." Dain leaned over and squeezed her hand. Mimzy looked up into his smiling, whiskery face and felt her eyes fill with tears again. Drunk or sober, Dain believed it to be true. She now felt awful for ruining one of his prized possessions in a fit of pique.

"Ladies and Gentlemen… Princess Mimzy!"

The guests clapped, and Mimzy looked out at the faces. The elves were smiling politely, but truthfully, looked like they would prefer to be somewhere else. The men looked impatient, ready for the formalities to be over so that they could go back to their food and drink. The tall old man that Mimzy guessed must be Gandalf looked upon her with genuine affection, and this lifted her spirits… only to have them crash again when she looked at Thorin's Company.

The Dwarves of the Iron Hills knew better than to take particular notice of Mimzy's appearance, but the Dwarves of Erebor were a different breed. Many of them looked uncomfortable, and one of them, a very fat dwarf at the back, was rubbing his second chin, as if refusing to believe that a dwarf was incapable of growing facial hair. A dwarf next to him wearing a hat looked upon her with pity, but was clapping heartily, kindly trying to make her feel at ease even if he wasn't. One of the dwarves, a rogue-ish character with pointed hair, was shaking with silent laughter. Or he was until his little brother smacked him over the head with a journal, and told him off for being rude.

Then she made the mistake of looking over at the dwarves of Durin's line. Thorin wore a poker-face, but his nephew Fili looked aghast. He caught her gaze and then looked down at his napkin, deliberately avoiding it. His brother Kili had already beaten him to the punch, and was looking very, _very _interested in the seeds atop his appetizer roll. As the main courses were rolled out, Mimzy waved over a waiter.

"Beverage, your Majesty? This is a very lovely and delicate red, the vines grown just outside Rhosgobel – "

Mimzy cut him off mid-spiel by grabbing the bottle instead of one of the glasses, and then shooed him away. She yanked off the cork and brought the neck to her lips. It was going to be a damn long night.

[break]

Bilbo Baggins, burglar _extraordinaire _and purveyor of fine waistcoats, had missed the whole thing. He had left to go visit the privy as Mimzy was getting ready, and had become lost on his way back to the Hall. He'd tried many doors, but all he'd found was a bathroom, a storage cabinet, an armoury, and to his shock and horror, what he'd assumed to be a stable, but turned out to be… not a stable. There were an awful lot of harnesses and bridles though.

"Oh thank goodness!" He jogged over to a balcony, where outside smoking were Nori, Balin, Kili and Ori. Well, Ori wasn't smoking, he had just drunk a bit too much ale and needed some air.

"Bilbo! You missed all the fun!" Nori chortled.

"Fun?"

"Laughing at somebody because of the way that they look isn't _fun_, Nori, it's cruel," Ori scolded, leaning against balcony railing.

"And it could lead to a diplomatic disaster, so you just hold your tongue, Nori son of Garlin," Balin said sternly. He looked older than ever.

"Wait, who are we laughing at?"

"We are not laughing at ANYONE, Mister Baggins, the least not a princess!"

"There's a princess here?"

"Two of them! Didn't anybody tell you?"

"Oh, that's right!" Bilbo slapped his forehead. "King Dain's daughters! Why would anyone want to laugh at them? I've spoken to King Dain a few times, and apparently they've very nice, spirited girls."

"Maybe, but all I know is the oldest one's got a face as disgustingly bald as a boot."

"I am WARNING YOU, Nori!"

"But it's true, Balin," Kili grumbled. "Dain's been going on and on about her beauty for ages, getting Fili's hopes up, and she's… well…"

"She's got lovely ears," Ori said stubbornly. Balin smiled down at him, but Kili glared.

"Well if you think she's such a stunner why don't _you _go get yourself an arranged marriage to her?"

"You're a hypocrite," replied Ori, emboldened by the multiple pints of ale he'd consumed. "You sleep with beardless women all the time!"

"But they're Dale women, that's different! That's exotic! Barefaced _Dwarven_ women on the other hand…"

"Don't forget to add the fact that her arms look like noodles, her hands are downright prissy and she's as skinny as an eel. Ow! You bligh – urgh hurgh hurgh, hurggh hrrrk!"

Ori had kicked Nori so hard that he inhaled in some pipe smoke too sharply and had begun to choke. Nobody offered to pat him on the back.

"Perhaps she'll be able to charm Fili with her personality," Balin said to Kili, trying to comfort the genuinely distressed Dwarf. "And come now, give her a chance. You haven't even spoken to her yet. Yes, King Dain is a..."

Balin tried to think of a word that was politer than 'blowhard'.

"… an 'exaggerator', but now that Princess Mimzy is here in person, we should welcome her with open arms and open hearts. Also, keep in mind that nothing is set. If Fili and Princess Mimzy choose not to court each other, then both are free to do what they wish."

"So… I wouldn't to have to try and woo her next?"

"Well, no doubt King Dain will try to bully you into it, but don't you let him. You young dwarves! You have plenty of time to find someone."

"But it's different for royals, isn't it?" Ori looked genuinely confused. "I thought this was more of a political marriage. Strengthen the kingdoms, start popping out heirs, that sort of thing."

Kili turned pale at the thought of forced breeding, and Balin pursed his lips, all his good will towards Ori dissipated. Bilbo tried to rectify the situation.

"Surely there are other dwarves that Princess Mimzy could marry in order to get heirs? If she chose to, of course." Bilbo was starting to feel very sorry for the apparently hideous princess.

"Well…" Balin scratched his beard. "I suppose then what would happen is that the next potential suitor would be the closest relative to the Durin genealogical tree."

"But then you're next in line, Balin." Ori had memorised Durin's line. "Would you marry Princess Mimzy?"

"Ugh, Durin's Beard, no!" Balin replied before he could catch himself. He flushed in embarrassment.

"Well, I'm going to go inside and make my own mind up about this supposedly gruesome young lady," Bilbo huffed, indignant on her behalf. "Care to join me, Ori?"

"I'd love to, Mister Baggins." Swaying slightly, Ori followed Bilbo back into the Hall.

[break]

Things had gone from bad to worse. The main courses had been cleared away, and the tables had been re-arranged for the dessert. Now instead of long tables, where different races were seated, Elves, Dwarves and Men were free to mingle on small private tables. Fili and Mimzy's table was especially small – there was just the two of them.

"So, my father tells me that you like to sew. That's nice. What are you working on?"

Fili had since given up on the blackberry juice and was hitting the mead.

"I'm working on a quilt, at the moment. To celebrate the Battle of Five Armies. It's got a dragon and a bear on it."

"Yeah, but the dragon was killed before the bear joined the battle."

"Does it matter?"

"Well, the blanket is going to look silly to people if you've got Smaug on it. I mean, you weren't even there, you don't really have any right to make something _celebrating _that ugly battle."

"Quilt."

"Eh?"

"It is a _quilt_, not a 'blanket'. And fine, it's not to 'celebrate' it, it's to 'commemorate' it."

"If you really want to commemorate it you may as well sew some goblin guts and eagle shit on it."

The two of them proceeded to sit there in icy silence, the only sounds being their cups of alcohol being drained.

"Waiter."

The waiter nervously placed another bottle of red wine and a flagon of mead on the table.

[break]

"Dori. Oi! Dori!"

"What on earth are you whispering for?"

"Bilbo wants to see the princess."

"Which one?"

Dori couldn't help smile slightly at Ori's frustrated expression.

"I'm just kidding. Come here, Baggins."

He pulled Bilbo close and started whispering in his ear – Dori was seated the closest to the royal tables, and the last thing he wanted was the wrong people eavesdropping.

"Alright, alright. Here you are Mister Baggins, two for the price of one. You see the dwarf youngling sandwiched between King Dain and that rather buxom shieldmaiden? Well, that's Princess Zora. She looks like a hearty lass, and has a fine facial fuzz forming on her top lip. That girl will grow a moustache that will make men weep one day, let me tell you!

Unfortunately the dwarf beside her is _not _the 'great beauty' that King Dain raved about. She is of course a great beauty, but she is no child of Dain. _That _one is."

Dori pointed to the table where Fili was, and Bilbo's mouth dropped open slightly.

"Yes, it's a real shame, isn't it? I'm sure she has a sparkling personality, but goodness knows, she's rather plain."

Bilbo looked back at Dori, then at Mimzy again. His expression wasn't one of shock because of Mimzy's 'ugliness' – in fact, Bilbo considered her the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid his eyes on - he was in fact shocked to realise just how different Dwarf beauty standards were to Hobbits'.

He looked back to Lirin, the dwarf maiden that many in the Company were looking over as if she was as delicious as the chocolate mousse they'd been served. Try as he might, he could not find anything arousing about her. In fact, he was rather disturbed by her sideburns.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, settling his gaze back on the Princess of the Iron Hills. She looked incredibly sad, like a wilted white rose in her lace finery. One finger traced the rim of her wine glass, and she was leaning her cheek on her palm as Fili bored her with talk about swords and war hammers.

"I want to go meet her," he said to Ori abruptly. Ori flinched.

"Oh Bilbo, you can't just go up to a princess and introduce yourself! It's alright with Thorin and Fili and Kili, we _know _them, but –"

"But I have made the acquaintance of her father, and that should be enough. Come on."

Ori still looked uncertain.

"_You_ may be able to go introduce yourself, Baggins, but it's a different matter for dwarves that are nothing more than smithies on the social ladder, as distantly related to Thrain as we may be," Dori explained, a slightly bitter edge to his voice.

But Bilbo was determined. He yanked Ori over to the table of the kings. Thorin in fact looked rather grateful at their presence – their arrival distracted King Thranduil from continuing his spiel about the benefits of a vegan lifestyle.

"Master Baggins! Ori! How are you?"

"Very well, King Oakenshield!"

"Thorin, Bilbo, please. And I don't believe you've made the acquaintance of our guests. Bilbo, Princess Zora, Princess Zora, Bilbo Baggins, our resident burglar."

"I am pleased to meet you, Master Baggins." Zora struggled to keep her eyes on his face, so mystified was she by his bare hairy feet.

"A pleasure to meet you. And you too, Lady …?"

"Lirin. Lady Lirin. Handmaiden to Princesses Zora and Mimzy."

"A bloody good handmaiden she is too!" Roared Dain, who by now was very, very tanked. In fact as he raised his glass to toast Lirin, he was oblivious to the fact that he spilled half the glass's contents all over the unfortunate Bard. "And you! Young man, fidgeting about in your cardigan! Who the heck are you? By Durin's Beard you look familiar!"

"I'm nobody, sir," Ori said shyly, his beer-fuelled bravado worn off. "Well, I'm just Ori, son of Galor, scribe of the Company –"

"Wait a second! I know who you are now! Your mam was the result of Thorin's brother Frerin knocking up a prostitute! HA HA HA! I've got your game, you wee bastard! BASTARD! HA HA HA! Born on 'the wrong side of the blanket', alright! HA!"

Ori was mortified. The rest of the table were also rather stunned at Dain's drunken outburst. All except Thorin – he was stabbing his banana pudding with a teaspoon, a murderous look in his eyes. No doubt pretending the banana pudding was Dain.

Zora, who had grown accustomed to her father's numerous _faux pas_ and was able to recover first, quickly asked what it was that Bilbo and Ori actually wanted.

"Oh! Um… we wish to know if it would be alright if we went over to say hello to your sister, Princess Mimzy."

"Of course! I think she'd welcome the company. She's a very gentle and _polite_ person, too," Zora hinted.

"Yes yes, go on, go say hello!" Dain burped and waved about a bit of cheesecake in the direction of Fili and Mimzy's table, once again splattering poor Bard with foodstuffs. "Although if you're anything like your spread-legged mam and grandma, you keep be sure to keep it in your pants, young Orki! HA HA HA HA!"

Ori hurried away without bothering to correct him, Bilbo close behind.

[break]

Fili and Mimzy thankfully couldn't hear Dain's din over the general chatter and noise of everyone else in the hall. Less thankfully, they had given up entirely on their feeble quest to find common ground, and were now just concentrating on drinking until they could both forget this night ever happened.

"Bilbo! Ori!"

When the two of them approached the table, Fili reached over and grabbed them like a man drowning at sea. "Have you come to take me somewhere? Anywhere?"

"We've come to talk to Princess Mimzy," Bilbo said crossly, tugging his waistcoat out of Fili's grasp. "If you're so wretchedly bored, go out and find your brother. He's smoking on the balcony with Balin and Nori."

Fili didn't need to be told twice. As he hotfooted it away, Bilbo took his chair, and Ori borrowed an empty one from the nearest table.

"Have you come to see if I'm really as ugly as everyone's been saying?" Mimzy asked sadly, and Bilbo felt his heart hurt.

She was even prettier up close – she had the glowing beauty of an elf but the size of a tall, Took-ish hobbit. She blinked her long lashes, and her eyes glimmered with tears.

"Not at all," Bilbo said quietly. "I'm Bilbo Baggins. I'm a burglar, and a hobbit, and I'm very pleased to meet you. I think you're lovely."

He hadn't meant to say the last part, but he was glad that he did, as it made her smile.

"Hello there, Bilbo Baggins, the burglar hobbit. I must say, I'm rather pleased to meet you too. I'm Princess Mimzy, daughter of King Dain, granddaughter of King Nain, of the Iron Hills."

"I'm Ori." Mimzy waited for Ori to list his family tree, as is Dwarf custom, but he refused to say anything further, and she decided not to press the issue.

"I hope your night has been better than mine, lads. This whole arranged marriage idea has been a disaster."

Bilbo and Ori swapped looks.

"Actually, my night has been pretty rubbish too. I've missed most of the meal because I got lost on my way back here from the bathroom, and it's too late to order dessert."

Ori's mouth twitched as he struggled to find the words to say. He didn't want to make Mimzy more miserable than she already was by getting upset at her father.

"Somebody made fun of my mother," he said finally, trying to hide his quivering chin in his scarf.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mimzy leaned over and patted his arm. "I get a bit emotional about my mother too – I only lost her eighteen months ago. Are you close with your mother?"

Ori lost it at that, and Bilbo had to pass him at least three napkins until he was in control of his emotions again.

"Mum's been gone for about five years, but it still feels like yesterday, sometimes. I came home and Dori was there, and Nori. Nori never comes home. They told me… what had happened, and then I just went adventuring with them. I didn't really have anywhere else to go.

"She knitted these," he said with a touch of pride, gesturing to his cardigan and mittens. "I've been able to wear them for the last seven years, she was that good a knitter!"

"A talented lady she was indeed!" Mimzy lied, reaching over and touching the fabric. Truthfully, Ori's mother had been a terrible knitter. There were lumps in the weave, the mittens' finger holes were uneven, and loose yarn was everywhere on the cardigan. She guessed that the reasons for the clothes' durability were that the material was so coarse and thick that it could take a battering before getting damaged, and that Ori clearly took very good care of them.

"I do embroidery, you know. Like my mother, and my grandmother before her. This was my grandmother's gown, in fact. It's the one she wore when she met my grandfather. Hence my father makes me wear it when I have to go and preen before eternally-disappointed princes." She made a face. "Oh well. I suppose it's a chance to show off her handiwork. I've only altered the fit. She was a stout warrior, and I'm, well," Mimzy shrugged.

"Never be ashamed of being compact," declared Bilbo, lacing his fingers on his stomach. "We burglars make it a point of pride."

That made Mimzy laugh, and Bilbo felt his feet hair stand on end. He was trying to think of something else witty when Fili and Kili came over, looking decidedly worse for wear.

"We're retiring for the night," Fili said shortly. "Thank you for a pleasant evening."

"Yes. It was a charming outing."

There was more feeling in a cold-drake's nutsack than in either of their pleasantries. Fili turned on his heel, and followed Kili out the hall.

"I take it you're not going to have a litter of blonde younglings any time soon?"

"Ha! Master Baggins, with all due respect to the Prince under the Mountain, I'd rather slam my head into one of Beorn's beehives than accept his hand in marriage. Not that it would ever happen – you just wait until tomorrow when he has to find a courteous way to tell my father that he thinks I'm grotesque and dull. That's when the fireworks _really_ begin."

Nori had come back inside with the princes, and he and Dori came over to their table.

"Come on Ori, time for your bedtime. Everyone's leaving."

"Dori, I'd like to stay." Ori glanced at Mimzy, his ears burning.

"Now Ori, I know that Princess Mimzy is _mesmerising_, but you've got to go curl up in your blanky now. Go beddy-byes."

Mimzy's stare at Nori was so withering that Bilbo was surprised that the miner-cum-thief didn't shrivel up on the spot.

"Your. Hair. Is. In. The. Shape. Of. A. TRIANGLE."

Nori shrugged, smoothing his hand over the middle spike.

"Haters gonna hate."

"But really, Ori, it's only an hour until midnight," Dori insisted. "The tables are being cleared and chairs stacked away. It's our cue to leave."

Defeated, Ori wished Mimzy goodnight.

"I'll be staying here for about a week, you know. How about we have afternoon tea tomorrow? Also, if you want, I can fix up some patches in your cardigans and mittens. Get them looking like new again. Leave them with my sister Zora –" She pointed to the yawning youngling stealing some leftover meringues "- and I'll sew them up first thing in the morning."

Ori's face went the colour of his hair. "You'd do that?"

"Of course! To make up for your bad night. It's the least I could do."

As Ori stammered his thanks, Dori and Nori looked upon the princess with greater respect. Before they retired to their rooms, all three of them bowed to her. Mimzy looked at Ori's retreating back with a small smile on her lips.

"He's a charming young man, isn't he?"

"He is. One of my favourite Dwarves in the company."

"I bet Papa said something to the poor thing. He's always inappropriate when he's been drinking."

"Well, King Dain is rather exuberant, but… um…"

They both looked over at the sloshed monarch. Everyone else had left the table, and now Gandalf was trying to force Dain to go to bed.

"Now look here, Dain Ironfoot, you've made quite a spectacle of yourself this evening –"

"Spectacle, shmectacle!" Dain reached over and grasped the end of Gandalf's staff, which Gandalf was pointing at him. "Whaddaya gonna do, old boy? Hey? Pow pow pow! Bang bang bang! Whoopeeeee!"

Gandalf tugged on his staff indignantly, and Dain let go without warning, making the wizard fall over in a pile of robes. Dain guffawed and rocked back and forth, slapping his stomach with glee.

Mimzy looked at Bilbo. Bilbo looked at Mimzy.

"You want to get out of here? Go to a bar in Dale?"

"Yeah."


	2. Chapter 2: The Night

Chapter Two: The Night

Bilbo had spent many hours exploring Dale – sometimes with Bofur, sometimes by himself – and so he knew where there were still some bars left standing after the Desolation of Smaug. And, they stayed open until the late hours, as there were many men working into the night to rebuild the city. After working from morning to nightfall with timber, nails and tar, they liked nothing better than to retire to a tavern for a beer.

Bilbo's favourite was The Plucked Goose. It was right near the water's edge, and was small and homely. It was run by a no-nonsense middle aged woman named Milleen, and the regulars at the bar all knew him.

"Baggins."

"Burglar."

"Bilbo B."

"Ol' 'bo."

"Bilbo dear!" Milleen came out from behind the bar and wrapped him up in a hug. "Still with us? Not gone back to the Shire yet?"

"No, not yet, Milleen. Gandalf still has some business here, and then the two of us will be heading back West."

"Well you can't go until you try this cider. It's my new recipe, I just made it today. It's pear and peach, with some cinnamon and nutmeg added. Oh! You've brought a friend! Would you like a cider?"

"Yes please." Mimzy took off her cloak, and many in the bar did a double take.

"It's a lady dwarf!"

"Don't be silly, lady dwarves have beards! She must be a whatchamacallit – whatever it is that Bilbo is."

"I _am_ a lady dwarf, I just have no beard."

"You're not just a lady dwarf! Gentlemen – and Milleen – it's my pleasure to introduce you to Princess Mimzy, eldest daughter of King Dain, of the Iron Hills."

At that, everyone stood up and bowed, or in the case of Milleen, curtsied. Mimzy, who'd always been shy, waved her hands slightly, urging them to sit back down.

"Oh well, a princess can't have just a cider! Gorran, do we have any tawny port back there?"

"No no, a cider will be fine. I'll just have what Bilbo's having."

She followed him closely to a table, and Bilbo was surprised to find that she was shivering slightly.

"Are you alright? If you're cold, I could always ask Milleen to stoke the fires."

"Oh, I'm just being – well, I _shouldn't _be nervous, because they're just Men, but this is a new city. I very rarely leave the Iron Hills. I think the last time I went anywhere I accompanied Lirin on a hunting trip to the Grey Mountains."

"Catch anything?"

"A cold. That was me, at least. Lirin managed to stab, gut and skin a wild boar."

"Wow."

"Yup. She's quite the outdoorswoman."

Their ciders came, and Mimzy got slightly flustered again as Milleen had decorated hers with an array of sliced fruit. It was practically more fruit than cider.

"Would you like me too…?"

"Of course, you haven't had dinner yet. Did you want something? Are the kitchens still open?"

"I'll eat when we get back to Erebor. When I was journeying over here, I was never sure when my next meal would be. So now I make a habit of 'borrowing' food from the kitchens, like candied nuts, jars of stewed apple, honeycomb, bread rolls, beef jerky, and dried sweet potato chips."

"By 'borrowing' you mean stealing."

"… Yes."

"Well, I'd expect nothing less from a burglar! At least you're not as bad as my little sister, Zor. When she was very young she used to steal my corsets and run around the castle pretending they were shells, and she was a tortoise."

Bilbo laughed so hard at that some cider went up his nose. The spices made him sneeze.

With that, they were off, speaking hours into the night. Childhoods, hobbies, hopes, fears, habits, things they were proud of, things they had come to regret. But by far the topic that mined the most humourous material were Bilbo's stories about his mother, Belladonna Baggins, nee Took.

King Dain reminded Bilbo of Belladonna, in a way. They were both loud and brash and meddlesome, although Belladonna was a teetotaller, having quit for the sake of his father, Bungo, who refused to drink anything stronger than milk.

Belladonna didn't really need alcohol to have a good time, anyway. Back when Bilbo was a boy, they used to have rowdy parties at Bag End, where Belladonna would dance on the table and insist on letting off one of Gandalf's firecrackers, letting out a hoarse cackle as it whizzed around the night sky.

She smoked two small sacks of Old Toby a day, and insisted on never leaving the house without all of her rings on her fingers and flowers in her hair. Ignoring Bungo's protests, she would take Bilbo into the woods for picnics, where they would pretend that the butterflies were elves that had changed shape.

"I actually checked in the books in Rivendell to see if that was actually true, and it wasn't," Bilbo admitted, somewhat ruefully.

Belladonna and Bilbo's cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, had never seen eye to eye, and they had stopped speaking because of an incident which had happened during yet another self-congratulatory lunch at the Sackville-Bagginses. It was probably celebrating something 'important' like Otho winning a pie eating contest, but that's not the point. The point was, Bilbo (who was just a child at the time) accidentally broke one of Lobelia's teacups, and Lobelia had reached over and sharply boxed his ears, making Bilbo cry.

Well. Belladonna wasn't going to have a bar of it. She charged at Lobelia like a billygoat, headbutting the other woman so hard that Lobelia stumbled backwards and fell out of one of the round windows, rolling all the way down the hill.

"And then," Bilbo gasped, the story never failing to make him laugh so hard that he could barely breathe, "Otho leaped up and started out the door, trying to chase her. But Otho is so enormously fat that his feet couldn't support his stomach on the downward slope at a quick speed, and he rolled after her! The two of them crashed into a puddle, and then the best part is, they were attacked by an angry mob of geese!"

Mimzy began to hiccup, she was giggling so much.

"Oh, gosh! Oh, that's so funny! How's Belladonna doing now?"

"She's still rather sprightly for her old age. After Dad died she moved over to Hardbottle, and just passes the days chatting away with the neighbours and selling raisin scones at the markets."

"I'd love to meet her one day. She sounds like a right laugh."

"Yeah, she is. You should see the Shire, Mim. All rolling green hills, flower gardens, old woods, and clear rivers. And I know it's hard to believe, but Thorin's Company actually did a good job cleaning up Bag End before I left."

"So it's 'Mim' now, is it?" Mimzy raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, well, I mean –"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's a nice change from 'Your Majesty'. Or that spiel they always do whenever a royal female dwarf is introduced. Long beards and shining eyes and all that malarkey."

"Can you ask them to change it?"

"Nope. Just the way it is." Mimzy leaned back and sighed. She and Bilbo were the only ones left in the bar. "I should just go on a long holiday, you know. Go see new places. Explore Dale, see Rivendell. Go with you to the Shire."

Bilbo's fingers drummed on his knees. He was just about to ask her to accompany him back home when she spoke first.

"But, I'm needed back in the Iron Hills. No doubt there's going to be a lot of toing and froing from the Lonely Mountain and back, as new mining opportunities attract our people, and refugees from the Blue Mountains and the traders along the Anduin start returning to the Eastern colonies. And goodness knows, somebody's got to keep an eye on Zora and Papa."

"Yeah."

Bilbo drained the last of his cider, and told her that Milleen was likely to be closing soon. Mimzy took the hint, and the both of them walked out into the crisp early morning air. It was now two in the morning.

"Are you okay?"

Bilbo couldn't lie.

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Sit with me. By the water."

Bilbo dangled his feet in the Lake, and Mimzy joined him once she'd removed her riding boots, which she'd traded for the silk slippers she'd worn at the feast.

"They're adorable, you know."

"Hm?"

"Your feet."

"Oh! Really? The other dwarves laugh at them."

"Well, what do other dwarves know about appearances, anyway?" Mimzy smiled at him and winked.

Bilbo hesitated, then reached out and held her hand. Mimzy's eyes widened, but then, she didn't pull away, either.

"I wish we didn't live so far away," Bilbo said quietly. "Although, I would be a fool to believe that a princess would fall for a burglar, anyway."

"I am MIMZY first, and a PRINCESS second. And… well, I happen to like you very much, Master Baggins."

Even in the dark, Bilbo could see two roses bloom in her cheeks.

"I don't care that you're a burglar, or that you thought elves could change into butterflies or that you panic if you don't have a handkerchief. In the course of a night you've shown more courtesy to me than any of the dwarves who have descended from the Seven Fathers, and don't seem to care that I'm incapable of growing a beard. Just because I don't have hairs on my face doesn't mean I don't have feelings, but you try telling _them _that.

"But Bilbo… Dwarves, we live for years and years. Our lives go on for three hundred years if we're not struck down by war or disease or misfortune. Royal dwarves, with our purer blood, we can go on for about four hundred!

"Now tell me… how long does a hobbit live for?"

"The Old Took, the eldest hobbit ever recorded, made it to one hundred and fifty years," Bilbo replied miserably.

Mimzy nodded. "One hundred and fifty. Bilbo. I'm already one hundred and twenty four years old. If we were together, we would only be together for a short time. And my heart would not be able to bear it. Do you understand?"

Bilbo nodded, but that didn't stop a lump rising in his throat. With one hand Mimzy squeezed his, with the other she quickly wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. I wish we could be together for longer. That I could forget about my stuffy life, and just be in the Shire with you. But I can't."

She sighed.

"But we have tonight. We have this week. And please, please, write to me, and I'll write to you. I enjoy your stories."

"I enjoy yours too, Mim."

Mimzy inched closer to him, and leant her head against his. He smelt like tobacco and cloves and burnt sugar. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.

As the rose and violet streaks that signalled dawn breaking started to reflect in the water, Bilbo and Mimzy shared a single, secret, lingering kiss, and then they both began walking back to the stables to fetch Mimzy's pony.


	3. Chapter 3: The Day

Chapter Three: The Day

Mimzy had only managed to get about five hours sleep when she was woken by Zora. Too young to drink alcohol but a fan of coffee, Zora decided that it would be a fun idea to fart on a pillow and then smack Mimzy's snoring face with it.

"Come back here!"

Zora burst out of Mimzy's bedroom door like a cork out of a bottle. Whooping, full of caffeine and mischief, she raced down the hall, her sister in hot pursuit.

"ZORA! SHH! The other dwarves and Gandalf are trying to sleep!" Lirin came out of her own room, hooked Zora around the waist and slung her over her shoulder, a second later halting Mimzy's rampage by holding her by the forehead with her free hand, Mimzy's hands whirring like windmills.

"Lirin! She passed wind on a pillow and then smothered me with it!"

"Oh come on, it was just a tap."

"A tap my a-"

"Shh! Both of you! Now, I'm going to let you go, Mimzy, but I don't want you to attack your sister."

"Hmph. You're lucky that I've got the beginnings of a nasty headache and I would _like nothing more than to throttle you_, _Zora,_ but yes, Lirin, I'll behave."

"And Zora, you apologise."

"Yeah, sorry." Lirin put down the smaller dwarf. "I just wanted to see if the hairy man was in your room."

"You might want to narrow it down a kiddo, there's quite a few hairy men in this mountain," Lirin said drily.

"And none of them would like to spend the night in my room," added Mimzy.

"That one called Bilbo would! The guy with the big feet. He loves you. He looooooves you!" Zora stuck out her lips and blew kisses. "Mwa mwa mwaaa-aaaah!"

"Why you little –"

"Enough!" Lirin held up her hands, at the end of her tether. "Wait here."

She ducked back into her room, and there were muffled sounds of furniture shifting and doors closing. She came back out.

"Okay. Get in here. Zora, go grab Ori's mittens and cardigan from your room, also the spool of yarn and needles he left with them. Mimzy come in here. You've got a high tea to go to in three hours, and you look like a mess."

Mimzy groaned. "Oh Durin's Beard, I forgot about Ori's clothes. Do I look that bad?"

"No, no, nothing I can't fix."

"I could fix it with another fart facial."

"Zora, headache or no headache, if you don't get out of here this second I will pin you down and beat you so badly even a Warg would think twice about eating you."

Zora hurried away. Mimzy and Lirin only had to look at each other for a second until they both burst into giggles.

"'Fart facial.' There is something really not right about that girl. Anyway, come on in, give me all the goss."

"Oh Lir, you think something happened with Bilbo too?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I think."

Lirin lead Mimzy over to her vanity table, and began brushing her hair, getting it nice and smooth before she could begin plaiting it.

"Well, nothing happened."

"Nothing except the two of you leaving Erebor after the feast on a pony, heading towards Dale."

"Who told you that? Actually, more pertinent question – was somebody here last night? I can smell pipe smoke."

"That's not pipe smoke, that's probably some Men burning wood outside, and ANYWAY, we were talking about you and Bilbo, the … what is he?"

"A hobbit."

"You and Bilbo the hobbit. Sooo… ?"

"So, we just went to Dale, had some cider, and talked."

"Talked about getting naked?"

"No!" Mimzy stuck out her tongue at Lirin's smirking reflection. "We talked about _nice _things. Then we just sat by the water and watched the sun come up."

"That's all?"

"And we may have shared a little kiss."

"EEEEEEEE!" Mimzy jumped, Lirin's girly shriek of glee utterly unexpected. There was also the sound of something crashing in the bathroom.

"What was that?"

"The wind. So are you going to see him again?"

Mimzy was saved replying by the sudden appearance of Zora.

"HERE!" She dumped Ori's clothes on Mimzy's lap.

"Careful, these mean a lot to him!"

"Really? They look like crap."

"They're gifts from his late mother!"

"Oops." Zora did look genuinely abashed at that. "Oh well, I bet you can make them look all nice again. But I should wash my hands, I mean, gosh, those clothes smell like he's been living in a barrel of rotten apples! Hey Lir, can I borrow your wash basin?"

"No!"

"Oh for goodness sakes, Lirin, who is in there?" Mimzy snapped.

Defeated, Lirin went over to the door and knocked three times.

"Are they gone?"

"Nope. The game's up. You're just going to have to come on out."

"I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"I left my clothes out there. Everything but the hat."

"Where?"

"Under the bed."

Quick as a flash, Zora scooped them up and dangled them out the window.

"Streak!" She shrieked. "STREAK!"

"Zor –"

Before Lirin could intervene, Mimzy ran over and stood in front of her sister.

"We claim royal privilege, so you can't touch us! Now streak! STREAK, STREAK, STREAK!"

Lirin's overnight guest cracked under the pressure. He bolted across the room, grey hat covering his 'pick axe'. In only a few seconds he was down the hall, scurrying back to his own quarters.

Mimzy and Zora howled with mirth. Lirin, unimpressed, picked up Ori's things and shoved them at Mimzy.

"Out. Do your own hair."

[break]

"Now, you use the small knife for the cheese, the big knife for the butter, do NOT put your elbows on the table, and do not burp, sniff, wipe your mouth on your sleeve or break wind under any circumstances! _Any _circumstances!"

"I know, Dori." Ori was faintly amused watching his older brother fuss about the garden table, setting down the cups and cutlery.

"Well this is a _princess _you're going to have tea with, Ori, and I just want to make sure everything works well."

"By 'works well' your brother means our family could get some pretty good perks if you get a smooch out of plug-ugly."

Dori whacked Nori so hard with the picnic basket that Nori stumbled and then fell back into a rose bush, dazed.

"Good shot."

"Thank you." Dori smoothed the table cloth, then looked at his handiwork. "Do you think she'll like this?"

"I think so. She seemed to like simple things."

Ori realised the double meaning of his words and braced himself, but luckily Nori was still out of it.

"Come here, your fringe braids are uneven."

"Your fingers are trembling."

"Well," Dori sighed, and stopped grooming his sibling. Ori waited.

"I just want things to work out for you today, lad. For us, but mainly for you.

"I remember when I was your age, and things weren't that easy. Mum had just left Dad – my Dad, anyway – and he was a wreck, so I had to go work at a silversmith's to put food on the table. It was hard, tiring work. My job was to beat the metal flat, as the apprentice. The master would do the easy work, the sculpting.

"Anyway, I remember watching on as the rich Dwarves would come in and look at the belts, the swords, the rings. They would just casually toss about gold coins, trade jewels. I wanted to hate them, but I couldn't, because I wanted to _be _them. Do you understand?"

Ori nodded.

"Look lad, I don't mean to sully your day. I know that you really care about this girl. You didn't shut up about her last night until Nori threatened to shove you down the laundry chute, for a start."

Ori shrugged guiltily.

"But… keep in mind… It hasn't been easy for this family. Even with Erebor reclaimed, our share of the treasure was pretty small. You don't deserve a life like mine, breaking your back as a smithy. You shouldn't have to run away like your brother, living as little more than a scavenger. You're a good boy, Ori. You deserve…"

Dori had to stop there, choked up. Ori leaned forward and hugged him.

"Oh, Dori. Please don't get upset. It's just tea."

"You're right, you're right, and she'll be here any second." Dori quickly released himself from Ori's grasp, blew his nose, and then busied himself with dragging Nori out of the rose bush.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Hush up, it's more than you deserve. Good luck lad!"

"Thanks!"

But with his brothers gone, Ori felt more nervous than ever. He wondered whether or not he should open the picnic basket. But would it be rude to open it without her there? Was there some sort of royal etiquette to opening picnic baskets?

He could feel sweat bead on his forehead. His first date with a girl, and she happened to be the heir to the mightiest Dwarf colony in Middle Earth.

There was a rustling in the bushes, and he breathed in sharply, quickly sitting up as straight as he could. But his stomach plummeted in disappointment when it was instead King Dain and Zora who came into the clearing, King Dain looking mightily worse for wear.

"So. Lad. You're going to sit down and court my daughter, are you?"

"Oh, um, well, uh…"

"Technically _she _asked _him_," Zora piped up. She began singing.

"Or-eee, doo da doo da doo,

"He likes to write stor-eees, da doo doo da da,

"Unlike the roses he isn't thorn-eee, da da da doo doo,

"And I bet he makes Mimzy really horn- "

"THANK YOU ZORA, that's enough. Now, this is just an introduction. I've been talking with King Thorin, and apparently your father was quite the scholar."

"He was, your Highness. He was one of the few dwarves in Erebor who could understand Elvish, and was a travelling merchant. He traded up and down the Anduin."

"Right. Also… after consulting King Thorin, err herrm, last night I may have said a few words that sullied the good name of the King under the Mountain. Concerning his elder brother's relations."

"Papa wants to apologise for calling your mama a tart."

"ZOR! But… let us just say… perhaps this meeting between my Mimzy and you can lead to better tidings."

Ori stammered his thanks and bowed many times to the king, aware of how important a gesture it was.

"Yes, yes. Now look lad, I've got to go back to my chambers and rest. I'm always rather tired after doing my exercises."

"Papa, you haven't exercised today, all you've been doing is vomiting."

Dain rubbed his eyes, and Ori hid his smile behind his hands.

"And here I was thinking Zor would be easier to marry off... Good tidings, lad, she should be here any minute."

"Actually, 'she' is here now."

Mimzy walked into the clearing, hair in a neat milkmaid braid, wearing a raspberry-coloured cotton summer dress.

"Here. I patched up your clothes. And gave them a proper cleaning."

"Why thank you! … Wow."

The mittens now fit perfectly, and Mimzy had threaded cashmere into the wool so that they were more comfortable. As for the cardigan, not only was it softer and more durable, but Mimzy had also stitched a pattern designed to look like quills into the weave.

"The girl's got talent." Dain patted her on the head. "And I've got a pillow I need to rest my head upon. Good day, Master Ori."

"Good day, Your Majesty."

Finally they were alone.

"So, um, you're a princess… that must be fun."

"Actually, it sucks eggs. Speaking of eggs, are there any in that basket? I was so busy stitching this morning I forgot to eat breakfast."

"Oh! Of course!"

There was a moment of panic where it looked like Ori was going to drop the basket he was so flustered, but it righted itself, and he unpacked the foodstuffs that Dori, taking a cue from Bilbo, had 'borrowed' from the kitchens.

Luckily, if there was somebody other than Bombur in the Company that knew their food, it was Dori. There was goose pate, soft white rolls, creamy brie cheese, cranberry compote, clotted cream, salted butter, and premium honey from the Carrock. There were also bottles of iced water and cold sweet tea, which were rather heavy, and probably responsible for Nori's slight concussion.

"Wow. So your brother picked out this stuff?"

"Yeah, he likes to know that sort of thing. He makes a habit of it. I was actually frightened when we were in the house of Beorn, that Beorn would lose his temper, Dori was so persistent with his questions."

"I used to be a bit like that, except I was always fascinated with the old stories. Well, I'm still a bit like that, except I've read all of the well-known tales and legends."

"Which one is your favourite?"

"Oh, this is going to be embarrassing, considering we're in Erebor." Mimzy placed down her bread roll and put her fingers up to her cheeks.

"I won't mind. Come on, tell me."

"Promise?"

"Give me your hand."

She did so, and he wrapped his pinky finger around hers.

"That, my lady, is a promise as strong as mithril," he said solemnly, making her giggle.

"Okay. I love the story of The Battle of Unnumbered Tears. It sounds sick, because so many died that day and Morgoth grew in power, but so many parts of it, especially the way Grandpapa used to tell it, were so exciting! Fingon's battle with the Balrogs, Beleg and his mighty bow, and of course, Azghal the Dwarven King striking a devastating blow to Glaurung, the Great Worm.

"I suppose the reason I feel so silly saying I like it is because, everything turned out alright in the end, didn't it? The Men and the Elves were estranged, but then came the light of Earendil. And Aule will not allow our people to fall – we are becoming strong again, and soon the rivers will run with gold.

"But Grandpapa, he… never came back from Moria. Papa could have died in the Battle of Five Armies. I hear it was an ugly and bloody affair, and bodies littered the field. These old stories, the ones told to children, which we commemorate with tapestries, art and books, sometimes they don't – they don't have a happy ending."

Mimzy's voice had dropped to a whisper, and she hung her head.

Ori, who still had her hand, untwined his fingers and instead held it whilst rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles.

"It's alright," he said quietly. "I remember before I set out with the others to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, I thought that everything about adventuring would be exciting and grand. Well, after being roasted by trolls, threatened with torture by Goblins, almost squashed by rock giants, poisoned by spiders, imprisoned, drowned in a barrel and _then _fighting in a war, I can say that adventuring has many downs as well as up!

"But every step of the way, I never stopped writing in my book. Because I wanted to remember it, the good and the bad. And please, Mimzy, don't be ashamed of having hope. Of believing in happy endings. I remember back in the Blue Mountains, when Thorin was looking for volunteers to reclaim the Lonely Mountain after the War of the Dwarves and Orcs, most of the colony laughed at him. They called him a fool, and there were rumours the loss of Thror and Thrain had driven him around the bend.

"And now look at him! King under the Mountain! Of course it wasn't as easy as that – he was stabbed with spears in the Battle of Five Armies, and before that, Bilbo stole the Arkenstone and tried to use it as a bargaining chip with the Men and Elves, to call off the initial siege."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah… not the smartest idea from our burglar. But they're good friends again now. They both got pretty beat up in the fight with Bolg, Thorin of course getting a few good shots in the gut, and Bilbo was hit by a rock, his head was split open and everything."

"Oh, Durin's Beard!"

"That was the worst part of it, all of us other Dwarves and Gandalf having to stand back and let the Elvish healers do their thing, wondering if they would live or not. But Thorin's incredible – he's been in fisticuffs with Azog twice, chewed up by a Warg… doesn't even need mithril, our king's that tough.

"Bilbo… enh, he turned out alright in the end. For a few days we had to keep an eye on him because he would just aimlessly wander about crying, but other than that, those elves did a good job of sewing him back up. Anyway, after their respective brushes with death they realised it was a bit silly to be fighting over a stone, and now they're the best of mates.

"Do you like Bilbo?" He asked suddenly, catching her off guard.

"Um, what? In which way?"

"Uh…" Ori hadn't thought that far ahead. "I don't know… like or like-like?"

There was an awkward pause.

"I enjoy the company of Master Baggins, however I would not choose to pursue a relationship with him because of personal circumstances," she said finally, with an eloquence that would get a thumb's up from Balin.

"Oh, well, that's good, I mean, not good-good, I mean. I mean – I don't know what I mean."

"Take a sip of water."

To stall for time and think, Ori gulped down half the bottle.

"Now, just relax, take your time –"

"I want to see you again and I think you're pretty and I don't care what my brother thinks because he's an idiot and I think you smell nice and you're sweet to me and I know you're a princess and I'm just a scribe but- but- but-" Ori took in a deep breath. "But I like you. I mean, I like-like you."

"Oh." Mimzy leaned back in her seat, blinking.

She studied Ori closely. He had earnest and boyish face. His hand had felt dry, but warm. He was patient and kind. Even though he was a bit excitable and emotional, she could see him being a good king, and a devoted husband and father.

"I… I would like to see you again too, Ori. Let's pack up this stuff, take a walk through the garden. Later tonight I'll tell Papa that you and I are courting, and perhaps you can come back with us, to the Iron Hills. For a visit. See what you think."

Ori thought it was the best news he'd ever heard in his life, even better than when he had received the letter from Thorin that he was to be the thirteenth member of the Company. He let out a whoop of joy, bouncing out of his seat and flicking the table cloth. All the cutlery and empty jars and bottles went up into the air, before he deftly caught and stacked them back into the basket.

"Well now, isn't that a neat trick!"

"It's pretty good! Not as good as this trick, though!"

Ori went to kiss her, but in his haste, only succeeded in banging his nose into her plaited hair. She couldn't help but laugh as he pinched his sinuses and sniffed.

"Aha ha ha ha! Sorry, gosh, you must think I'm awful!"

"No, I think I'm just clumsy." He checked his upper lip for blood. "No harm done."

"Still, did you want me to kiss it better?"

"I would like that very much, thank you."

Standing up on tiptoes, she gently pressed her lips onto the tip of his nose. Heels lowered back onto the grass, she leaned forward into his embrace, and felt light-headed as he kissed her long, and hard.

Aaaaaand that is how Bilbo found them when he wandered into the clearing.

[break]

A quick rewind to earlier that day. As Zora plaited Mimzy's hair and sang about the joys of farting, Bofur sulked in his bed as Bifur and Bombur laughed and hooted over his 'interesting sprint' that morning, and Dori 'borrowed' copious amounts of bread rolls from the kitchen, Bilbo was helping Gandalf work out the quickest route back to the Shire. Or he was until Gandalf, tired of Bilbo's quote unquote, 'melancholic fugue', insisted that he go for a walk and come back to the map room when he was in the right state of mind.

So, Bilbo had decided to stroll around the Mountain. Soon tiring of having to make small conversation with people he bumped into in the passageways, he slipped on his ring, and went around invisible.

Although, Bilbo didn't really need too much of an excuse to slip on the ring lately. It gave him a sense of importance. Now that he wasn't constantly scrambling for survival, wearing the ring was a source of … 'fun'. He was smug in the knowledge that he could practically go anywhere he liked, and do anything he liked, and there wasn't too much that anyone could damn well do about it. He could learn secrets, steal things. Sometimes he just liked to sit and watch people, getting a perverse kick out of their discomfort. Their knowledge that _something_ had their eyes on them, they just didn't know what it was.

Tiring of the Mountain, he went outdoors, and walked about the garden for a little bit. He pricked up his ears when he heard Ori's whoop of joy, and decided to see what the young dwarf was up to.

And when Bilbo saw _exactly what it was that Ori was up to_, he became overcome by an intense rage like none he had ever known.

Frozen still, heart beating like a drum against his ribcage, his mind became crowded with violent fantasies. He suddenly hated every single thing about Ori. His shaggy haircut, his thin beard, his chipped nails, his gigantic ears. He wanted to reach into the basket and pull out the sharpest knife in there, then ram it into Ori's kidneys. That snivelling pathetic little fool, that double-crossing, rotten, loathsome wretch! As Mimzy screamed and knelt beside his body, he should shatter a bottle by swinging it into her beautiful face. Heartless _bitch_.

He had taken two steps forward when a butterfly lazily drifted past his nose, evoking a sense of time long ago. He shook his head, feeling the insides of his stomach turn cold. What was that? What had he been thinking? Had _he _been really thinking that?

He stumbled out of the clearing, back onto the path. He slipped off the ring, suddenly afraid of it, putting it back in his pocket. The muscles in his face felt strained, and another wave of nausea overtook him as he realised his expression must have been set in a silent snarl.

As quick as he was able, Bilbo ran back to the Mountain.

[break]

"And then I was like, UH UH UH, and she was all like, mine for gold, MINE FOR GOLD!"

"Awwwww yeah! MAJESTIC!"

Fili high-fived Kili as Kili recounted his latest sexual conquest. This time it had been one of the Wood Elves.

"You got to do an elf, brother." Kili leant back on the bench and resumed bench pressing slabs of iron. "Sure, they've got no body hair, and they say the WEIRDEST stuff in bed, but by Durin, they're bendy."

"Yeah, I need something better than what I've been offered lately. But I ain't gonna go there if there ain't no hair."

"How many chicks came from the Iron Hills other than Princess Slim-zy?"

"Ah, only two more. A kid and the handmaiden."

"Then show that maiden a hand. And then when the snow's melting, venture into that cave!"

"Yeah, but she's doing Bofur."

"Damn."

"I know, I could never compete. Bofur's hung like a mule."

Kili paused mid-lift.

"Or you know, so I've _heard_."

"Lads, out." Thorin Oakenshield swept into the exercise room, Bilbo close behind him.

"Awww…"

"OUT."

Kili buttoned his shirt back on, then he and his brother bowed respectfully to their uncle before vacating.

"Now, Bilbo, what are you so flustered about?"

"Oh, it seems so unimportant now…"

"Hobbit. You were on the verge of tears when you sought my counsel. Tell me."

"Alright. It's Princess Mimzy. I'm over the moon for her. She's so… oh, she's just everything, Thorin! She's got a dry wit, an exquisite face, and a mind as sharp as the crack of a whip. But I stumbled upon her in the garden… with Ori."

"Oh, so their date went well!"

"You knew about this?!"

"Bilbo. I spent an hour convincing King Dain to agree to it. He was in a foul mood, having drunk too much the night before, and the idea of a scribe courting his daughter didn't sit well with him, to say the least. But then I _reminded _him, _sharply_, that he had spoken out of turn about the sons of Thrain the night before, and he changed his mind. It's not easy to change the mind of a king, you know."

"Thorin. Who are you talking to?"

At this Thorin let out a bark of laughter.

"Ha! Alright, I'll give you that, Baggins. But are you trying to tell me that you instead wish to vie for the hand of Princess Mimzy?"

"She doesn't want my hand, though. She wants Ori's. And that makes me feel…"

_Like filleting him like a fish and making her scream in agony._

"… angry, I guess."

Thorin nodded gravely. "I understand."

"With all due respect Thorin, I don't think you've felt the fury I felt today. It was terrifying."

"Mm." Thorin went over to stand by the window, and looked down. Below was a one hundred foot drop through sharp branches and scratching pine needles. "You know I once tried to push Frerin out this window here, don't you?"

"What?"

"Frerin. My elder brother. Killed during Smaug's attack on Erebor. He was a scoundrel, Bilbo. Went around courting women left and right – and often it went further than courting – and no matter who I was interested in, it seemed he always got in there first."

He sighed.

"Anyway, so I wished to take the hand of a cousin of Khim, of the old Amon Rudh colony. She lived out West, around Angmar. So what does Frerin do? Ride out before me, ruin her reputation, and come back smiling like a smug weasel. He was handsome, Frerin. Much more handsome than myself."

"Really?"

"Of course! I'm no prize." Thorin ran a finger self-consciously down his nose bridge. "I've got a narrow nose, bright blue eyes, and rather sculpted features. I try to get fat, and get my nose broken, like Frerin, but that's just the way it goes." He shrugged.

Bilbo sat down on the bench, utterly perplexed. Dwarf standards of attractiveness. He would never understand it.

"So I never married the girl I wanted to, and would have killed my brother had my much more level-headed sister intervened. My point is, Bilbo, it's okay to feel angry. To feel upset. To feel cheated. But if you truly love someone, you would let them be happy."

Bilbo crossed his arms in front of his chest. But he also nodded.

Thorin came towards him, laid a hand on his shoulder, then left.


	4. Chapter 4: The Goodbye

Chapter Four: The Goodbye

The week passed. Mimzy and Ori spent the majority of their time together, but Mimzy also tried to make time for Bilbo. Bilbo, still smarting over Mimzy's 'betrayal', was far less cordial to her than he had initially been, hurting her deeply, although she refused to show it. She managed to convince him to give her his address at Bag End, and promised to write him a letter, every month, of every year.

Bilbo just shrugged.

Soon, he and Gandalf set forth for the Shire. The Dwarves of Erebor were very sad to see him go, especially Thorin, who gave him as much gold as he could carry. Ori gave him a portrait he'd drawn of Bilbo, and Bilbo briefly considered ripping it up right in front of the young dwarf. His goodness prevailed though, and he instead laid it carefully inside a book he'd been given by Bard, about the history of Esgaroth and Dale.

True to her word, the first month that Bilbo was back in Bag End, he received a letter from Mimzy. He refused to open it, instead shutting it away in his desk drawer. And then he received one after that. And another one. And another one. He had six letters in his drawer before he decided to write back.

That January was the worst month of Bilbo's life. His mother passed away, the combination of winter and age finally cooling Belladonna's fire. Then, barely a fortnight after that, his favourite cousin Drogo and his wife, Primula, drowned in the Brandywine. Their son, his beloved second cousin, Frodo, formerly a happy child, had become closed off and pensive. Nothing Bilbo could say or do could get him smiling again, and Bilbo felt helpless.

Coming back to Bag End from one of his many trips to Brandy Hall to see Frodo, Bilbo felt himself losing control, and so he found a secluded area in the woodlands, and cried.

He cried the way he had after the Battle of Five Armies. Great big heaving sobs, nose running, eyes becoming red and puffy. If you asked him, he could not ask you why he sobbed so, it was like the sadness had always been there, deep inside of him. Any other 'respectable' hobbit would have just dabbed their eyes and sniffled a little at the circumstances, but Bilbo's sorrow cut deeper. It was if he could feel the world changing, sweeping him off his feet.

As soon as he got home, he opened the letters that Mimzy had sent him.

She _had_ married Ori. The ceremony had been three months after Bilbo left for the Shire. She had invited him, but of course, he had never replied. In a twist of irony which she could have not foreseen, she had wanted him to be her ring-bearer. The role instead went to Bofur, who had moved to the Iron Hills with Bifur and Bombur once he had learnt that Lirin was pregnant with his child.

Ori had adapted well to the way of life in the Iron Hills. He had not only won over the respect of King Dain with his articulate prose and ability to speak many languages, but had proved himself to be excellent at inventory. Whenever the Iron Hills would trade with Erebor or the merchants of the Anduin, Ori was right by Dain's side, meticulously listing every coin that traded hands, and constantly parleying for a profit. As a result of this – because like most dwarf fathers, Dain believed that a son that could successfully bargain for gold was the _best_ type of son indeed - not only had Dain given his blessing for Ori to ask for Mimzy's hand in marriage, but he had also ordered the scholars in the library to add the name of Ori's grandmother, Kari, and his mother, Mari, into the Durin family tree. Ori, Nori and Dori were now proper heirs in Durin's line.

Life was also going well for Mimzy. Her sister had decided to channel her energies into becoming the Stable Master, (for the Dwarves of the Iron Hills were a rare colony that chose to ride ponies regularly), and Mimzy, Kili and Fili were now on speaking terms, the less pressure to copulate, the better.

Bilbo let out a watery sigh, grabbed a handkerchief, dipped his quill into the ink, and started to write.

He wrote to her about how sorry he felt that he acted like such a prig at their last meeting. He wrote to her that he felt lonely, the last friend he had in the Shire, his mother, now laid to rest. He wrote to her that he felt insecure – what was the use of wealth if people thought you were unhinged? But most of all, he wrote to her about Frodo.

He wanted to adopt the boy. He had fallen in love with Frodo since he was a baby, his wide blue eyes, his curious expression. It broke a part of him, deep inside, to see the child so unhappy. He wanted to take Frodo away from the Brandybucks and raise him in Bag End, like he was Bilbo's own son. The Brandybucks were wonderful hobbits, but none of them adored Frodo like Bilbo did.

But he was afraid. What if Frodo hated him? What if he turned out to be as selfish and spoilt as Lotho Sackville-Baggins, his relative around the same age? What if Bilbo couldn't be the parent Frodo needed, or more importantly, deserved?

Mimzy's reply was succinct and sensible, as is the way of the Dwarves:

Shut up. You will be fine. Adopt him. M.

And adopt him Bilbo did.

For the next sixty years, Bilbo and Mimzy wrote each other a letter every month, without fail. Mimzy soon fell pregnant, and in a feat never matched by any other dwarf, she gave birth to quintuplets – Jolli, Molli, Dolli, Lolli, and Polli. All girls, with the large dark eyes of their mother, and the ginger hair of their father.

Dori finally had an opportunity to be paternalistic again, as Ori, the King's Heir, had long outgrown that sort of thing. However he was thwarted by Zora at every turn, who encouraged the quintuplets to make fart noises with their armpits and blow raspberries.

And Nori had made his way into Mimzy's good graces with the arrival of the girls. Approaching middle age, he had decided to give up bar brawls in exchange for tea parties with his nieces. He even allowed them to crawl all over him as he dozed, and chew on the hair he had once been so vain about.

Meanwhile, in the Shire, Frodo was recovering from the loss of his parents, and discovering life could be fun again. Unfortunately, Frodo's idea of 'fun' was to run buck naked all over Hobbiton, with a fellow amateur nudist, young Samwise Gamgee. This idea soon gained popularity with Frodo's cousins, Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck, and the four of them would scamper about the town without a stitch on, their parents in hot pursuit.

Mimzy's advice to let them do as they would, as often the best warriors were closet nudists, failed to reassure Bilbo, and he took to forcing Frodo into a pair of pants and pegging him to the clothesline to reinforce the idea that clothes were for WEARING. Adventuring was okay, but adventuring without clothes was NOT DECENT.

Speaking of adventuring, roughly forty years after Erebor had been reclaimed, Balin got it into his head to try and reclaim Moria. Only Oin, much to the chagrin of his brother Gloin and nephew Gimli, was of the original Company to undertake what Thorin and Dain labelled the 'fool's errand.' Ori considered being their scribe, until Mimzy, Nori, Dori and Zora sat him down and calmly explained that each of them would take turns braining him with a hammer until he saw sense and decided not to go.

Needless to say, Ori decided not to go. They picked a scribe named Gazul to go in Ori's stead.

It was a close shave. Moria was overrun by Orcs. Balin and Oin lost their lives, and the colonies of Erebor and the Iron Hills mourned them dearly.

Bilbo was having some problems of his own. He was tiring of the Shire, and wished to go back to Rivendell. He did so, however instead of this making him happy, Mimzy was surprised to find that initially, his letters in Rivendell seemed bitter and angry and resentful (she had no idea of course that Bilbo was still raging over being forced to give up his 'precious' ring very recently). At night she would sing her young children to sleep and then wrap her body around Ori's, but she couldn't fall asleep herself. She worried about Bilbo. She wondered what was wrong.

Then came the War of the Ring. Bilbo would never make clear whether he had been a ring-bearer himself, (although Mimzy, a smart girl, worked it out), but they soon were writing back and forth weekly instead of monthly, wanting to know the latest news. Mimzy was worried for Bilbo's dear Frodo, and Bilbo tried the best that he could to comfort Mimzy (and Zora) when King Dain finally fell, defending Erebor and Dale from the forces of Mordor. He would miss Dain himself – the king could be foolish and drunk, but more importantly, he could be kind and fair.

A few years after the War of the Ring, Bilbo's letters became more sporadic, even though Mimzy had gone back to writing to him every month. After four months without a reply, Mimzy wrote to Bag End, and got a reply from his nephew, Frodo. Bilbo had aged rapidly without the ring, and was losing his memory. In a week's time, he would join Frodo in a journey to the Undying Lands.

[break]

The sand was soft, and the wind smelt of salt. Frodo and Bilbo, having arrived at the Grey Havens via a carriage courtesy of Elrond, stood on the beach, and looked out over the water. Frodo was as still as a statue, terrified of what was next, but trying to accept it. Bilbo, in contrast, shook with age, but seemed contented. Ready.

Frodo could feel somebody staring at him, and turned his head to the left. Only fifty metres away was a dwarf. She had on riding boots and light travelling clothes. Lines had formed around her mouth, eyes and forehead, but it was still unmistakably the princess – no, queen now – that Bilbo had often described.

"Bilbo."

Frodo laid a light hand against his shoulder, and Bilbo squinted at what Frodo was pointing at. The dwarven queen, meanwhile, was indicating to her assistant, a young dwarf with dark sideburns, wearing a grey hat, that he should take their ponies somewhere else for the time being.

Bilbo, supported by Frodo, walked over to where the queen was, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Hello, old friend."

Bilbo squinted in confusion. Confusion gave way to recognition, then friendship, then something deeper. Queen Mimzy dabbed her eyes when she realised that it was love.

"Mimzy. The girl who wrote me stories."

"Yes. Yes, that's me."

Frodo left them, having seen his friends from the Shire riding up on ponies.

"I haven't seen you in years. You got married to a good man, bore children."

"Yes. Ori is back in Erebor. He wanted to come on this journey, but he's recovering from influenza. His mother died of pneumonia, so I told him to stay at home and not take any chances, to be safe and get well. My daughters are pleased – they never miss a chance to dote on their papa. He'll have scarves knitted for him and chips cooked for him for a week.

"At the end of the day… I think this is something I had to do myself, anyway."

Bilbo nodded.

"I remember… we were like this. Long ago. Staring out, at the water. You leaned your head against mine. And I told you that I loved you."

Mimzy pressed the tips of her fingers against her eyes. He hadn't. _She _hadn't. But she should of.

"Yes. Yes, you did."

Bilbo walked towards the water, letting the tide wash over his toes. Mimzy followed him.

"Look at that sunset. How bright it is. Do you see it?"

"Yes."

"We didn't watch the night though. We watched the morning. … I wish that we had watched more mornings."

"I wish that, too."

"Bilbo." Frodo was standing with Gandalf, beckoning the old hobbit toward the boat. "It's time to go."

Bilbo clasped her hands in his. His back had become hunched, his hair white wisps. His skin was as thin as paper, and he felt cold. Mimzy had always believed time to be cruel, but she had not guessed the fullest extent of its cruelty. The way that it struck down Hobbits and simple Men first. The good and kind and innocent of Middle Earth.

But when he looked at her, she could see the Bilbo of old. The dashing dinner guest, the canny burglar, the fearless adventurer.

"I will never forget you. I will never forget you again. I can't. I won't."

"I won't forget you either."

Mimzy leant forward and kissed his forehead. The faint scent of tobacco and cloves and burnt sugar still lingered around him.

He started walking towards Gandalf and Frodo. He had walked halfway when he turned back towards her.

"Mimzy?"

"Yes?"

"… I think you're lovely."

He walked onto the ship, supported by Gandalf and Frodo, and the silent tears that Mimzy cried were unnumbered, as she came to accept that she would never see him again in the mortal realm.

As the last ship was untied from the dock, she held up her hand, in a sign of farewell. She began to head back up to where her godson was waiting, and her pony.

She needed to go home.


End file.
